I say nothing. My fingers wrap tighter around Kane’s phone.
Why didn’t she tell me?
It’s like a punch to the gut.
“She didn’t tell me.”
Daisy sighs through the phone. “I know, and if I had to guess why, it’s because she didn’t want to worry you. You were in the middle of playing one of the most important games of your career when she got the email.”
Yet, somehow the game doesn’t feel all that important at the moment.
Before Daisy can say anything else, I hand Kane his phone. I jog toward my car. Kane shouts my name, but I keep going.
“Don’t be late for practice!”
Right, practice.
We have to be back at the arena in a few hours to watch films and work out some kinks for game two. We didn’t leave with the W last night, but I can’t think about that right now.
Not as I climb into my car and head for the courthouse.
I’m horribly underdressed.
I pass by a few men in suits as I push through the courthouse doors. They each glance at me awkwardly. Either they recognize me, or they’re wondering why I look like I belong at a gym.
Black sweats, Blue Devils hoodie, and a backward baseball hat.
I flip my hat forward to block my face and scan the sign posted near the elevator.
Conference rooms.
Instead of waiting for the elevator, I round the corner and take the stairs.
I barely break a sweat when I reach the third floor. The door echoes behind me, and I drop my attention to the floor to be discreet. I pass by a couple of empty rooms and peek beneath the brim of my hat to see how many more there are to go.
I stop in place when I see her, all the way at the end of the hallway, sitting there on a wooden bench. Her hands are in her lap, her chin tucked as she stares at them.
I peer behind me and then at her once more.
We’re alone.
I slow my strides, my heartbeat roaring in my ears.
“Reese.”
As if she knew I’d show up eventually, she turns and looks at me without surprise. I lose my footing when our eyes meet.Her dimples are nowhere to be found, the warmth she usually radiates cold.
I take a seat beside her and remain quiet.
Part of me wants to demand she tell me the reason for keeping this to herself, fighting words resting on the tip of my tongue, ready to scold her for repeating the same patterns of relying on no one but herself. But after I sit beside her, all I want to do is pull her in close.
After a few minutes of the two of us sitting on the bench, I turn to stare at her. I trace the perfect curve of her button nose with my eyes, the same nose that Charleigh has, and silently beg for her dimples to show their face soon.
I break the tension, unable to take it anymore. “Reese, are you okay?”
The only response I get is a blink.
I’m not sure she even hears me, too swept up in whatever’s going through her mind. A replay of whatever happened in the meeting?
